Peace
by Unexplained-Silence
Summary: Everyone just assumes that he would want to escape the Shadowzone.


I have absolutely no excuse for this. It's been sitting around the dusty corners of my mind for a while now, and I wanted to write something Soundwave-centric. I really should work on some the stories I've already got going, but this is a one-shot. Enjoy. Or not. IDK.

* * *

It felt weird. When I was pushed into the other dimension. I couldn't describe it if someone asked me to, but I don't think I'll ever forget the feeling.

Of course I had watched the Autobots win the ship. I had watched the scout die, watched him fall into the cyber-matter. I was the only one who noticed when he dragged himself out. It was...rather undignified.

No one gave the scout enough credit. He had more spark than all of them. At least now that's been rectified.

I had watched while Megatron's spark was pierced. Watched when he fell. His frame was largely burned up in the Earth's atmosphere during his fall. I didn't follow him.

I watched Shockwave and Starscream flee. In all honesty, that was probably the best course of action for them. I hadn't expected Starscream's sudden display of emotion when Megatron offlined, though. But I guess you learn things about people all the time, even when you thought you knew them.

I stayed on the ship while it traveled to Cybertron. I watched the scout's promotion ceremony.

I think...it was then. While the scout became a warrior.

That was when I realized.

Throughout the struggle with Unicron, and the Predacon terrorcons, I watched. I would've helped. But being nothing more than an unpleasant memory on that dimension kind of hinders that.

I watched the progress of the restoration. It was slow, even with the new generation of pre-progs.

When the commemoration statue of the Last Prime was erected, I removed my visor and played Lazerbeak's violin form. For the first time in centuries, my faceplates were exposed. For the first time in centuries, I created music. No one would have guessed that I was to be a musician. I'd felt obligated to pay homage to the Prime, and that was the only way I could think of.

Life went on.

And I was forgotten.

At the promotion, I realized that I didn't want to be remembered. Not for all the things I'd done in the name of the Decepticons, in the name of Lord Megatron. For a few months after the end of the war, I was subconsciously afraid that I would be pulled from the Shadowzone, imprisoned for war crimes, or executed. I wouldn't have minded the execution actually.

But I wasn't. I was left as the ghost I am. Nothing but a story used to scare friends and siblings. It's still too early for any younglings to appear.

It kind of stung that Megatron never even bothered to try and free me, actually. Most of my functioning was spent serving him, and he simply wrote me off as dead.

I quickly got over it, though.

Because people like me should be forgotten.

_Monsters._

_ Nightmares. _

_ Demons. _

All of them.

When I was young and the Great War was just a distant possibility, my Sire told me that all bots are sparked good. The Priest of Primus said that, too. They all did.

They all told me over and over again that all bots are created with a good spark. That every bot has a choice to be either good or evil. That every single bot has the same chance for redemption if they happen to stray off the path.

I don't believe that.

I never did.

Because the first time I killed an innocent creature, I found I loved it. I loved the pain I'd caused the gyrabbit. I loved the fear I'd seen in its optics.

The Decepticons only reinforced that nature. Megatron ordered me to become a monster. Ordered me to kill. And I did.

I hated it.

I loved it.

I welcomed it.

Even though I knew that I would be disposed of at the end of the war.

After all, no one wants a demon.

I don't believe that every bot is born with an equal chance at good. I don't believe that every bot is born with a pure spark. I don't believe that Primus gives every bot an equal shot at redemption.

Because in times of war, leaders need monsters to set on the enemy.

But as soon as the war is over, that need disappears.

That's why I don't want to be remembered.

If I'm remembered, then I'll be hunted, chased, disposed of.

In the Shadowzone, I'm free. I don't have to hide, because I don't exist.

In the Shadowzone, there is peace.


End file.
